An Exquisite Thing
by blurryphase
Summary: "Do you know why they call him the morning star? It's said that before Lucifer fell he was the most beautiful angel of them all, the morning star in the sky. It's said that he was God's favorite." He chuckled darkly, the sound low in his throat. Perhaps he really was the devil and the heat she felt were the flames of hell licking up her body, engulfing her. Non-magic AU.
1. Chapter 1

**I hope that you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. I, of course, in no way own Harry Potter or his universe. That privilege goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

The first time she ever met Tom Riddle, something about him didn't sit right. It was like there was a large sign above his head warning her to keep away. Looking back, the events that transpired next were almost comical in their implausibility. She had to have been possessed, that was the only possible explanation. Hermione Granger wasn't someone who ran with the wrong crowds or committed any crimes. Hermione Granger wasn't someone who was rash or acted before thinking. And Hermione Granger certainly wasn't a fool. And yet, only a fool could have landed where she was at this precise moment. Yes, it was definitely comical. A short, hysteric laugh burst from her lips.

"Hermione, I need you to calm down." Tom attempted to sound soothing, but something about his voice was off. It sounded far away and had a distorted quality to it.

Hermione stared down at the floor. There was a pool of blood that was steadily growing, some of the red creeping all the way over to her shoes. The gun was still clutched in her right hand, her muscles straining from the tension of holding it so fiercely. Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes landing on Tom. "This is all your fault."

* * *

Hermione glanced once more between the map of the museum, which looked to be older than most of the artifacts in the building, and the wall where there was supposed to be an apparently nonexistent staircase. Her first day of work and she was going to be late because she couldn't find the way to the museum director's office.

"Are you lost?" A voice came from behind Hermione, and she turned to respond when the words got stuck in her throat. The attractive man standing in front of her was not what she had been expecting. He looked around her age or slightly older and was tall, with perfectly styled dark hair. The suit he was wearing screamed designer and she didn't even want to know how much he had spent on it.

When a knowing grin began to form on his face as she stared at him, Hermione felt a blush rising to her cheeks and she blinked rapidly before looking away. "Yes, I am. The map shows a set of stairs here and unless I've recently developed some type of staircase-specific blindness, there's not one."

The man didn't react to her attempt at a joke. He just continued to look at her, making Hermione even more uncomfortable than she already was. Finally though he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Follow me," He commanded before walking away, not checking to see if she was. "Our maps are a bit outdated. I keep suggesting that we make new ones, but," He shrugged and stopped walking. In front of them was a grand staircase and Hermione felt stupid for having missed it. "So, what exhibit are you looking for? Perhaps you'd like me to escort you there?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at his condescending tone. Someone else might have thought he was just being helpful or doing his job, but she knew better. He was mocking her. "Actually," she replied coolly, "I'm looking for the director of the museum's office. I've just been hired as a curator here and today's my first day."

Although Hermione swore she saw a flicker of some darker emotion, the man maintained a polite expression. "Ah, yes. I heard we were getting an additional curator with how quickly the museum is expanding."

"Additional?" Hermione hadn't been aware that she would be working alongside anybody. She had been under the impression that she was filling a position that someone else had left.

"Yes, I've been the curator here for nearly five years. Tom Riddle." He held his hand out to her.

Hermione reached forward and shook his waiting hand. His grip was tight and she pulled away quickly. He gave her a sharp look and she forced a weak smile. "Hermione Granger."

"Pleasure," He said it like it was anything but. "If you go up the stairs, turn left, and go all the way to the end of the hall, you'll find an area blocked off to the public where all of the offices are at. The director's office is the one on the far left, you can't miss it." He looked at her as though he figured she would miss it.

"Thanks," Hermione bit out, sounding more resentful than she had meant to.

"Oh, and Hermione," She was halfway up the stairs, but stopped when she heard him call out to her. Turning, their eyes met and she felt rooted to the spot, unable to move if she wanted to. "I'm looking forward to working with you." His voice was rich and velvety and he had a small smirk on his face.

As he walked away, Hermione couldn't stop the small shudder that ran through her. It was a harmless statement, but for some reason it had felt like a threat. But that was insane, he was just being polite. Still though, a part of her was yelling to get out while she still could. "You're being ridiculous." She whispered to herself before walking the rest of the way up the stairs. She was just nervous, that was it. She was at a new job in a new city, and so she was freaking out and reading too much into things. That was it.

After successfully locating the director's office, Hermione was given a tour of the museum while they discussed what her job would entail. During the tour, she paid special attention to the floor plan of the museum so that she could avoid further humiliation from her new coworker. The tour ended with them once again by the offices. "And here's your desk," The director, a stern faced man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties, pointed to a desk in a tiny cubicle.

Hermione thanked the director and went to inspect her new working area. It was small, clustered together with several other cubicles where other museum employees were working in silence. Glancing up as the museum director reentered his own office, Hermione's eyes fell on the door of the office next to his. There was a small gold plaque on it in which _T. Riddle_ was finely engraved. Of course he had his own office, while she was stuck in this tiny space with a tiny desk. At least the computer looked new. She sighed and dropped into the chair which creaked loudly, making her the recipient of quite a few dirty looks, and thought of how she could decorate her little space so she could at least make it more personal.

"You'll get acclimated soon enough."

Hermione took a deep breath through her nose before turning around. Tom was standing there, grinning down at her and she had the urge to stand up so that he wouldn't have so much height on her, but she knew that he'd see it as a challenge so she remained begrudgingly in her seat. "I'm sorry, but what are you talking about?"

"The cubicle. I know it's pretty small, but you'll get used to it eventually." Though he sounded perfectly friendly, his personality rubbed Hermione the wrong way.

"Says the guy who has his own office." Her response made a few of the closer employees pause what they were doing so that they could watch the interaction.

Tom didn't seem at all bothered by her reply. He smiled politely at her. "I've worked hard, and it's paid off." He lowered his voice so that none of the people snooping could hear. "One must work for everything they want in life, and sometimes they have to fight against people who want the same thing as them. Here it's kill or be killed, and I always get what I want Hermione." He left to go to his office, the warning in his words hanging in the air.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Hermione didn't see Tom again, and for that she was grateful. His message earlier had been abundantly clear. He saw her as a threat, as competition, and he wasn't pleased. Hermione didn't like to admit it, but he made her nervous. It was only the first day, and she was already second guessing this job. On the way back to her apartment that evening, Hermione made up her mind. She was tougher than this, and she wasn't going to quit her new job just because some bully had said a few mean words to her. Besides, no matter how dangerous he could make his voice sound, the man was harmless. He had to be, he worked in a museum for crying out loud. No, he wouldn't get to her. Hermione wouldn't let him.

When she got home, there was a package waiting for her in the front office. She grinned when she saw that the address had been written in Harry's messy scrawl. Once she was in her apartment, she plopped onto her couch and used her keys to open the box since her scissors were still packed away somewhere. Inside the package was a short letter from both Ron and Harry saying that they missed her already and wishing her luck at her new job. The note also mentioned that they had sent her something to make her new apartment homier. She carefully pulled out a picture frame, with three pictures side by side. The one on the far left had to be from when the three of them were eleven or twelve. Harry's mouth was pulled up in a laugh as the photo captured Hermione in the middle of lecturing Ron for making a funny face. The picture in the middle was from their college graduation, and the last was taken just a week before she moved. Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes. God, how she missed them.

Wiping her eyes, Hermione stood and placed the picture frame on the kitchen counter. Even though she had moved in a few days ago, she hadn't finished unpacking and didn't have a nail or hammer ready so she'd have to hang it later. Even though it was still pretty early, it had been a long day and Hermione was exhausted. She made a small dinner which she ate quickly and then went to bed, telling herself that she'd call the boys tomorrow when she wasn't so tired. As she was falling asleep, she hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"So how do you like it there? Have you made any friends yet?" Harry asked.

After her second day of work, which had gone by without a hitch, Hermione had called the boys as soon as she had gotten back to her apartment. They were sharing a place at the moment, so it made it easy for her to talk to both of them.

Hermione digested Harry's questions. The first one was easy to answer. Yes, she did like it there. The museum had incredible collections and was acquiring even more. Each piece had a unique and interesting history to it and she loved drinking in the information the building held. The second question was a bit trickier. So enthralled by the knowledge that surrounded her, Hermione hadn't actually met any of her new coworkers today. That left the two she had met the day before. The director of the museum, who was her boss and therefore couldn't really be classified as a friend, and Tom Riddle. She thought about the things he said to her under his breath so no one else could hear and the cold look in his eyes that never went away, no matter how charming and welcoming he made the rest of his face appear. No, definitely not a friend.

"The museum is great," She told him sincerely. She hesitated before answering the second question. "And no, not yet. I was just so overwhelmed with everything in the museum today, it's all so fascinating." She felt bad for not telling them about Tom, but she knew how defensive both of the boys could get when it came to her and she didn't want to get them riled up over nothing. Tom hadn't actually done anything and she doubted he would. He was just trying to get under her skin. Besides, she could handle him on her own.

Harry chuckled. "Why am I not surprised. But you gotta try and make some friends, especially if you plan on being there for a while."

"Just don't forget who your best friends are, Mione," Ron chimed in jokingly. "And don't you dare try to replace us."

Hermione gasped into the phone, pretending to be offended. "I would never! And speaking of my best friends, how are you guys?" She took the opportunity to change the subject away from her. Hermione wasn't the biggest fan of talking about herself and very much preferred listening to Ron and Harry discuss their lives. "What's it like being hot shot FBI agents?"

"Not so hot shot at the moment," Ron told her. "We're new, so haven't gotten any interesting cases."

"Yeah, and we haven't even gone into the field yet. So far it's all been desk work." Harry said, and Hermione could tell he was trying to reign in his disappointment.

From the moment she met them, both Harry and Ron had always dreamed of chasing down the bad guys and saving the day. Ron loved the idea of being a hero. Harry wanted to fight for justice and what was right, but Hermione knew he also wanted to be a hero just as badly as Ron, he was just less vocal about it. So after college, it only made sense that the two of them had gone into the FBI. It also made sense that they were upset no real chasing had actually taken place yet. Despite her best friends being disappointed, there was a part of Hermione that was relieved they hadn't been out in the field so far. Being an FBI agent was dangerous, and Hermione was constantly worrying about them. She didn't want to think about something bad happening to them, especially while she was on the other side of the country, unable to do anything.

"Well, just make sure you work hard and treat each case like it's top priority, especially the boring ones. If the higher ups see you thoroughly investigating the cases everyone else considers dull, then they'll know that you take your job seriously and will trust you to handle the important ones."

"Huh, I didn't think of that. Thanks for the advice Mione."

"That's what I'm here for." Hermione said, a grin on her face. She sat back and listened as Ron launched into a story about one of the other agents they worked with.

* * *

The next day, Hermione sat at her desk and took a sip from her third cup of coffee, hoping that it would wake her up a little more. She had missed Harry and Ron so much and was having such a good time catching up with them that she didn't even realize they had talked into the early hours of the morning until after they hung up. She was absolutely miserable from the lack of sleep, but it had been worth it to talk to them. She glanced over at the pictures of them and smiled. Hermione had decided to take the gift the boys gave her to the museum and keep the frame on her desk. It already made the desk feel more personal, and she liked being able to look over at it whenever she felt tired or stressed.

Despite being exhausted, the day went by quick enough and before Hermione knew it, it was her lunch break. She wanted nothing more than to spend the time in her car napping, but with Harry's voice telling her to make friends repeating over and over again in her head, she grabbed a few dollars from her wallet and went to the break room.

There wasn't much of a selection in the break room's vending machine, so it looked like Hermione was having a pop tart and soda for lunch. Her stomach grumbled as she scanned the room, looking for people that could be potential friends. Her eyes landed on a blonde sitting by herself at one of the tables and Hermione walked over.

"Mind if I sit here?" She asked nervously. Hermione wasn't the best at making new friends. Her friendship with Ron and Harry had really been pure luck on her part.

The girl smiled at her and nodded. "Sure, it's not reserved."

Hermione sat down across from the girl. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"My name's Luna Lovegood, I work over in the natural history part of the museum. You're the new curator, I've heard about you." Luna said brightly.

"You have?" People were talking about her? Hermione didn't know how she felt about that. "Good things, I hope."

"For the most part." Luna saw the face Hermione made and was quick to reassure her. "I wouldn't worry about it though. There were only a few rude comments and they were all made by girls who are just jealous of all the time you'll be getting to spend with Tom Riddle."

Ah. So he was popular around here. Of course he was, Hermione thought. He was drop dead gorgeous, intelligent, and charismatic. Was there anyone here besides her that saw he wasn't as likable and charming as he seemed? Maybe it was because she spent so much with Ron and Harry, who were suspicious of everyone. Maybe she was just being paranoid and Tom was just as pleasant as everyone thought he was. She almost laughed aloud at the thought.

"So everyone here likes Tom then?"

"Oh, yeah. All the girls want him, all the guys want to be him. Everyone's pretty much obsessed with him. Although you don't seem to be. Curious sure, but not obsessed."

"Our personalities don't seem to mix well." Hermione offered as an excuse. Was it that obvious she didn't like him? "What about you?" She couldn't help but ask.

Luna shrugged. "I don't have any reason not to like him. I guess I'm just used to him. I've known him for a while, we went to middle and high school together. I had a break from him in college, but now here we are, together again."

The rest of Hermione's break was spent chatting with Luna. The girl was nice, but a bit odd. Hermione liked her though and would be able to proudly report to Harry that she had initiated a conversation and now had a friend at the museum.

Her walk back to her desk was slow. She had already finished most of the work she had to get done today, but there was one thing she had been putting off, and that one thing involved Tom Riddle. Deciding to just rip the band aid off and get it over with, Hermione grabbed the file from her desk and walked over to Tom's office. She knocked lightly and took a deep breath.

"Come in." His voice was authoritative and commanding and Hermione squared her shoulders and raised her chin before entering. She'd be damned if he saw how uncomfortable she was.

When she walked in, Tom didn't even look up. Most of his desk was occupied by a large painting that he was studying with a small magnifying glass. He didn't look up until Hermione cleared her throat. "Ms. Granger, what can I help you with?"

"It's Hermione," She corrected him. She didn't like the way he called her Ms. Granger. He said it like he was talking down to her. "And I have a file here for you to go through. I already read through it and signed but it seems I need your signature as well."

"As you can see, I'm busy at the moment. Leave the file and I'll get to it." He brushed her off, barely paying attention. He had resumed examining the painting and Hermione felt her temper build.

"I'm busy too, so if you could just sign the papers real quick that would be great." Tom didn't reply and Hermione huffed. "What are you even doing?" She asked harshly.

Finally, he stopped what he was doing and glanced at her. Tom's eyebrows were raised and it was clear that he hadn't expected her to snap at him. "Besides being the curator, there are plenty of other things I do for the museum," He told her with a grin and Hermione ignored the urge to roll her eyes. "Right now, I'm authenticating a piece of art that the museum is interested in acquiring."

Of course. _Of course._ Hermione knew Riddle was smart, anybody could see that, but she didn't know he was this smart. In order to authenticate art, a person had to be considered an expert in the field. They had to know everything about the artist and their work and they had to have an excellent eye to notice the smallest details. Not only that, but they needed to know all about the time period when the artist was alive. Extensive and exhausting research was required to be able to authenticate and Tom knew that she knew that. He was showing off.

Maybe it was from the lack of sleep the night before or the excessive amount of caffeine in her system from all the coffee she drank, but Hermione's anger was at its tipping point. Yes, she had brought this on herself by asking what he was doing, but the smug way he answered had Hermione scowling at him with her hands in fists at her side.

Tom seemed to enjoy her frustration, which made Hermione even angrier but she forced herself to calm down before she made a scene. Once she was able to unclench her fists, she spoke. "Well, whenever you get the chance, please sign the forms." She said stiffly.

She was about to walk out when she heard Tom's voice from behind her. "You don't like me."

Hermione turned around. "I don't have any reason not to like you," She told him, repeating Luna's words from earlier.

"And yet, you still don't like me. I can tell."

"Just because I'm not falling at your feet doesn't mean I don't like you Riddle." Hermione turned around again. She had just grabbed the handle when a hand was on the door above her head, preventing it from opening. Hermione froze and it felt like time had frozen with her. She refused to turn around and look at him so she stared at the door, praying that her glare would burn through it so she could be free of him.

"I'll have you falling at my feet soon enough. And Hermione," Tom said her name slowly, almost sensuously, and she shivered at the sound. "I insist you call me Tom."

She didn't move, even when she felt Tom walk away and heard him sit back down in his chair. "I'll be sure to get that file back to you before the end of the day." He told her pleasantly.

Hermione blinked, and time started back up. "Thank you." She muttered before hastily leaving his office and returning to her own desk.

For the rest of the day, she couldn't get his voice out of her head. She wished she hadn't told him to call her Hermione. Anything was better than that. She hated the way her name sounded on his lips, it was like poison. She didn't think she could handle the way he seemed to draw it out as if he was taunting her.

She didn't understand. There had been plenty of people in Hermione's life who hadn't liked her and whom she hadn't liked. But none of those times had ever been like _this_. She barely even knew Tom, had just met him, and yet she felt suffocated by him. It was like his presence sucked out any air in the room until there was just him. Until he was all she could focus on, all she could think about. It was ridiculous. He was just a guy, he shouldn't be able to do this to her. Maybe Luna was wrong and Hermione was obsessed with him. But that didn't seem right. She'd give anything to not have to look at him or talk to him ever again. Whenever she was around him, she felt consumed by him. She was sure that couldn't be healthy.

"Hermione,"

She jumped. There it was again, her name coming from his mouth. His tongue twisted the syllables into something awful that sent a chill down her spine and made her heart beat erratically. She looked up at Tom, unintentionally making eye contact. "Yes?"

He smiled at her then, and not one of his fake, polite smiles. The smile was real and stunning and going to be the death of her. He was undeniably attractive and her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Why was he smiling at her like that? The scene from his office played back through her mind. Was this his way of making her fall at his feet? "I have the file for you. I signed all the necessary documents."

"Thank you," She managed.

"My pleasure," he told her, the words coming out of his mouth like sin.

Hermione waited until Tom was safely back in his office before dropping her head into her hands. If this was his plan for her, she was in for a rough time.

* * *

 **You might have noticed that I'm making this take place in the United States. The location is irrelevant to the story and the characters so I just did it out of convenience since that's where I'm from. I'm sorry if that bothers any of you.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Firstly, I would like to thank you all for the positive feedback I've been receiving for this fic, I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying it! Secondly, I want to apologize for the slow update. I'm a chemistry major and it kind of consumes my life and this semester has been especially busy. But thank you so much for your patience, and I hope that this chapter is enough to satisfy you for now.**

 **I am not J.K. Rowling so I therefore do not own the HP universe**

* * *

Working with Tom Riddle was… interesting. Hermione had been at the museum for a few weeks now, and had worked alongside him for most of it. She cherished the times that she could do things on her own and not have to be near him. His presence was so dominating it was difficult to focus on anything else when they were in the same room. She knew it wasn't just her either. Everyone at the museum seemed to be enraptured every time he spoke and Hermione simply didn't understand how one man could command that much attention.

And that was when he wasn't even trying.

There were times when Tom was especially insistent on making Hermione squirm. She'd catch him staring at her during staff meetings. He would stand much too close for her comfort when going over things in his office and speak to her in a low voice that sent shivers up her spine. Once, she had been sure she felt his fingers run through her hair, a barely there touch against her curls. But when she turned around, he was several feet away with his back turned to her, reading something on his desk. Hermione noticed that she was the only one he ever did this with, and she wondered what she could have possibly done to deserve this torture. She supposed it had to do with his comment about how he would have her falling at his feet. Though if Hermione was going to be falling any time soon, it would be out of pure exhaustion.

He wore her out, mentally and emotionally. She was constantly worrying about him. She didn't actually have a legitimate reason to worry, but that didn't stop her mind from racing in circles whenever she thought of him, which was more often than she cared to admit. That on top of her workload was bordering on overwhelming. Not only did she have to work on current happenings at the museum, she was also going over as much as she could of what took place before her arrival so that she could be familiar with it if the need arose.

Because of how busy she was, Hermione hadn't been able to keep in touch with Ron and Harry as much as she would have liked, but there was little she could do about it. The fact that she was now on the other side of the country as them and in a different time zone made reaching each other difficult. The only times that Hermione could call them were either very early in the morning or very late at night, and as much as she wanted to talk to them, she also needed her sleep.

As a result of being overworked, under-rested, and living in a near constant state of unexplainable paranoia, Hermione was in a particularly nasty mood one Tuesday morning when she showed up for work. Because Tom was the reason for her bad mood, later when Hermione looked back on that day, she could only conclude that everything that happened next was entirely his fault.

She was running late, her alarm hadn't gone off when it should have, and she rushed through the museum's parking garage. So preoccupied with trying to get to her desk as soon as possible, Hermione didn't even notice that someone else was in the parking garage until she ran straight into them. Her thermos went flying out of her hand and the coffee that Hermione had only managed to take one sip of so far spilled all over the concrete. She swore and quickly scanned the area to find the person that had been in her way, prepared to yell at them.

Her entire body stiffened as her eyes landed on Tom. "What the hell, Riddle?" She demanded. "Thanks to you I'm going to be even later than I already am and now I don't have any coffee."

Tom raised an eyebrow at her and the corner of his lip twitched as though he was trying to keep himself from grinning. "I don't know why you're so angry when you're the one that ran into me." He pointed out, amused.

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "You were in my way."

"Ah, of course." Tom said while bending down to grab her thermos. He walked over until he was right in front of her, invading her personal space as always. "My apologies, Hermione." He murmured as he held out the thermos to her. He was still looking at her in amusement, and Hermione quickly cast her eyes down to escape his gaze.

Her fingers felt numb as they wrapped around the cool metal of the thermos. As she started to pull away, Tom kept his grip on the mug while his other hand reached out and grabbed onto hers. Her breath caught and her eyes snapped up to look at him again. This was the first time that Tom had touched her, and she hadn't been expecting it. His touch was not at all what she thought it would be like. She always figured his skin would be cold, a reflection of his personality, but his hand was quite warm against hers. The heat made her realize just how cool it was in the parking garage, and goosebumps ran up her arms.

"And it's Tom," He told her in a low whisper. When he finally let go, Hermione instinctively took a step back, causing him to grin. His grin was still in place when he turned and walked to the elevator that led to the main floor of the museum. Hermione hung back, deciding that waiting for the next one and being even later was worth not being trapped in a confined space with Tom. "Are you coming?" He asked innocently.

 _Definitely not._ "I forgot something in my car." The excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.

They both knew she was lying and Hermione couldn't help but feel relieved when Tom decided to indulge her. "I'll see you upstairs."

The elevator doors closed and Hermione shook her head. "Get it together, Granger." She said under her breath while walking to the stairs, bypassing the elevator altogether. Maybe the extra exercise would help alleviate some of her irritation.

Once she finally made it to her desk, Hermione thanked whatever gods were out there when the guy in the cubicle next to her, a friendly man named Neville, told her that he had covered for her when the director had questioned her absence. She shot a glare at the door to Tom's office, blaming him for her tardiness.

Hermione dropped down into her chair and immediately got to work, determined to make up for the lost time. There was so much to get done and she really didn't want to end up taking anything home with her. Keeping her head down, Hermione put all of her focus into what she was doing, not letting anything distract her.

It wasn't until Luna rapped her fingers against the desk that Hermione looked up from her work. "Ready for lunch?" She asked in her light, airy voice.

Hermione glanced at the time, startled. She hadn't even realized she had been working that long. She nodded at Luna in confirmation and stood up. They had eaten lunch together ever since her second day there and Hermione was glad she introduced herself. The girl made good company and her stories were always interesting. As the head researcher for the natural history exhibit, Luna's job often required her to travel all over the world in order to study exotic plants and animals in their natural habitat.

"Did you actually bring a lunch today?"

"No," Hermione groaned. Luna got on to her everyday about bringing a lunch, and every morning Hermione would forget. Her lunch always consisted of whatever happened to be stocked in the vending machine that day. "I was running really late this morning and didn't have time. I'll just get something from the vending machine."

"You are the most unhealthy eater I've ever met." Luna chuckled.

"You haven't met my friend Ron." Hermione shot back with a grin.

Luna was about to reply but her eyes locked onto something over Hermione's shoulder. "Hello Tom."

Hermione turned and sure enough, Tom was leaning against the desk with such nonchalance it was like it belonged to him and not her. "I'm on my way to lunch so if you have something for me just leave it and I'll look at it when I get back." She told him matter-of-factly not bothering with a greeting.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed in confusion but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made Hermione's insides twist. "Have you forgotten already? You agreed to let me take you out for coffee during your break since I spilt yours this morning."

She just stared at him. What was he doing? He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to reply. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Right, of course. This is what happens when I don't have coffee, I forget things."

Luna gave her a little smile. "Okay, well I guess I'll just talk to you later. Bye Hermione, bye Tom."

Hermione watched longingly as Luna walked off towards the break room and she desperately wished she could go with her friend. Instead, she had somehow gotten roped into getting coffee with Tom Riddle. She turned back to him once Luna had left. "It'll have to be quick, I have a lot of work to do."

"We won't be gone long." Tom promised as they walked to the museum's exit.

He looked far too pleased with himself and Hermione was quickly regretting going along with his lie instead of calling him out. It was just coffee, she assured herself. Besides, with the day she was having, she needed it.

When they had made it out of the museum and onto the front steps, Hermione pointed at a Starbucks across the street. "We can just go there."

Tom shook his head. "Absolutely not. I know a place that's much better, c'mon." Before Hermione could protest, he grabbed her hand and led the way down the sidewalk.

"Pretentious, hipster asshole." She muttered angrily under her breath, causing Tom to let his head fall back and laugh so loudly and genuinely that several passersby turned to look at them.

Mind racing, Hermione was too distracted to pull her hand out from his. Over the past couple of weeks, Tom had been giving her plenty of attention, but he had never once touched her. And now this was the second time in one day that he had grabbed her hand. And this time he hadn't just grabbed it, but was actually holding her hand as they walked down the street, even if he was just doing it to lead her, like a parent with their child.

He was becoming more forward, and Hermione didn't know how she felt about it. She saw through his act even though none of her colleagues could. She knew that behind the charming and charismatic mask, he was a very cold and indifferent person. But she couldn't help but be intrigued by him. He was brilliant and it made it to where Hermione occasionally didn't mind his company, if only for the intellectual conversations.

The coffee shop that Tom took them to was small and cozy, and Hermione found herself pleasantly surprised by it. There was a bookstore next door and the wall had been torn down so that customers could amble about between the two at their leisure. She'd have to come back to this place on her own.

Hermione scanned the menu as Tom ordered his drink. She glanced over at him to ask him what was good and noticed that he had a dark look on his face, darker than she had ever seen before. She followed his gaze and saw that the apparent cause of his anger was a man sitting in the corner of the shop, reading a book while sipping at his coffee. "Tom?" She asked, hesitant. The look on his face made him quite intimidating.

Tom's expression transformed and his face was blank when he looked down at her. "I'll be right back. Order whatever you like." He told her, handing her a few bills before heading over to the man.

Hermione wanted to watch the interaction, but someone in line behind her cleared their throat impatiently, and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm going." She ended up ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, partially because it actually sounded pretty good, but mostly out of spite. It may have been somewhat juvenile of her, but it made Hermione feel better so she didn't regret it.

As the barista went to work on their orders, Hermione creeped forward, wanting to listen in on Tom's conversation with the stranger without them noticing. Before she could make it close enough to hear, the unknown man stood suddenly and rushed toward the exit. She noticed that his expression was one of fear as he escaped the little café.

Hermione walked over to Tom. "Who was that?" This had given her a glimpse into Tom's personal life and now she was curious.

"He's a friend." Tom's replied shortly, choosing not to share any information.

"Are all of your friends terrified of you?" The question came out more serious than she intended.

A smug grin spread across Tom's face but it softened as he looked at her. "Perhaps he was intimidated by the beauty of the girl I walked in with."

Hermione's heart fluttered, but she recognized his ploy for what it was. "You're trying to change the subject."

"And succeeding," Tom told her as he went over to the counter and grabbed their drinks, handing hers to her. "Would you like to go look at the books?"

Hermione gave him a look and then sighed. "Fine, you win this round. But only because I'm desperate for something new to read."

By the time their break was over, Hermione almost felt disappointed. Despite how much she hadn't wanted to go initially, she had actually enjoyed herself. The bookstore had an excellent selection and she had purchased several promising volumes. Even being there with Tom wasn't completely awful. He had read a good majority of the books in the store and had recommended a few of his favorites as well as ones that he thought she would find interesting.

Their walk back to the museum was slow. Even though Hermione had just drank a large coffee, she felt more lethargic than before. She wanted to go home, change into comfy clothes, and curl up with one of her new books. The rest of the day was going to be miserable, and she couldn't wait for work to end.

Reaching the staircase that led up to the museum, Hermione moved to go up, but Tom gripped her arm and pulled her back. "Wait," He told her.

Hermione shot him a questioning look. She wasn't prepared when he took another step forward, closing the space between them, and bent his head to press his lips against hers. Tom took advantage of her shock and slipped his tongue between her open lips and into her mouth. She could taste the coffee on his tongue, and her eyes fluttered shut on instinct. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away.

"What the hell was that?"

Tom shrugged. "I wanted to see if you tasted as good as I imagined."

Hermione was floored. He was _imagining how she_ _tasted?_ She was quick to reply, not wanting to give him the upper hand. "And?" She prompted. "Did I live up to your expectations?"

If Tom's earlier statement had sounded dirty, then his answering smirk was positively filthy. "You exceeded them, Ms. Granger."

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 **I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. The coffee shop/bookstore set up is based off a real location from my hometown that I've spent a lot of time in and I feel like if Hermione were real she would absolutely adore it.**

 **PS, now that they've had their first kiss (thank god) things will start to pick up. I know that the fic has been sort of slow to begin with, but it is rated M for a reason. Throughout the rest of the fic there will be smut, swearing, violence, and general mischievousness.**

 **PPS, Tom is a bad person. I feel like that's a given considering it's Tom Riddle, but I just want you to be aware. As the fic progresses you'll get to see/hear about more of his private life and what's going on behind the scenes.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter four! Please read it and let me know what you guys think.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the HP universe**

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That evening when Hermione got home from work, she immediately went to her bedroom, grabbed her laptop and brought it back out to the living room so she could plop down on the couch. Ever since the scene in the coffee shop, she wanted to know who the man was that fled the shop with such terror on his face. The rest of her time at work, the thought kept nagging her, like an itch that wouldn't go away. But she knew better than to go digging into Tom Riddle's personal life at the museum when he could catch her. So she waited.

Now in the sanctity of her apartment, Hermione tried to find anything she could about Tom. If she found him, then maybe she could find out something about the man from earlier. A part of her felt ashamed at being so nosy and snooping around, but Hermione justified to herself that it was for her own safety. She worked alongside Tom every day, and she had the right to know why the stranger was so afraid of him. Besides, if he was allowed to kiss her because he wanted to know what she tasted like then she was allowed to look him up on the internet.

After just a few minutes, Hermione came to the conclusion that Tom wasn't on any type of social media. No surprise there, but it frustrated her all the same. She refused to give up though, knowing there had to be something about him somewhere online. Feeling a little silly, Hermione typed his name into google and hit enter. There would likely be hundreds of hits and it would take forever to sort through them, but she was Hermione Granger and she didn't give up.

The first result that popped up caused a sliver of fear to wedge itself into Hermione's heart. A lump formed in her throat as she reread the headline from several years ago. "Police Stumped by Triple Homicide". Clicking on the link, Hermione quickly skimmed the article, hoping that it would turn out to be a false alarm. Her heart started to race as she realized that wasn't the case. According to this, Tom Riddle Sr., who had to have been Tom's father based on the striking resemblance from the fuzzy picture included with the article, had been found dead along with his parents in his own home. The person who found them was their grounds keeper, a man by the name of Frank Bryce, and was the main suspect during the investigation. However, with almost no evidence to support the claim, Bryce was never convicted.

Hermione's frown deepened the more she read. While the investigators knew that it was definitely murder- after all, there was no way that three perfectly healthy people could all just drop dead at the same time from natural causes- a cause of death was never discovered. She didn't know how that could be possible, especially with all of the scientific and technological advancements now widely available. How could someone murder three people in a way that the police couldn't figure out?

Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione had dialed Ron and Harry's home phone number. She tapped her fingers impatiently against the coffee table as she listened to it dial. "Come on, pick up." She pleaded.

She was just about to hang up when she heard Harry's voice on the line. "Hello?" He sounded out of breath.

"Harry, it's me. Is now a bad time?"

"Hermione! No, you're fine. Ron's out and I had just gotten out of the shower when you called. I had to run to pick up before I missed your call." Harry explained happily. "What's up?"

"I was wondering," Hermione started off slowly, beginning to think that maybe this had been a bad idea. "Is it normal for police not to be able to find a cause of death while investigating a murder?"

There was a pause on the other line, and Hermione knew Harry well enough to know that he was frowning. "It happens often enough, I suppose. Sometimes the murderer while try to disguise the death as something else to make it look like an accident or suicide, which makes it more difficult to identify the real cause of death. Or they'll poison the person using something they know won't show up on the tox-screen or that doesn't seem out of place. Stuff like that." Hermione listened intently. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh I was watching some crime show on TV and they couldn't figure out how someone died and it just sounded a little improbable to me." Hermione lied easily. There was no point in involving Harry in this little investigation of hers.

Harry chuckled, and any trace of worry disappeared from his voice. "You really need to stop watching that crap, it's so unrealistic. But they were right about it being possible to not figure out cause of death."

This conversation hadn't made Hermione feel any better. In fact, she felt even more anxious than she did before. "I won't, don't worry. I wish I could talk more, but I really need to go. I haven't eaten dinner yet."

"Bye Mione, and don't be a stranger. We miss talking to you."

Hermione blinked away tears. She missed them too, sometimes more than she thought she could bare. "I promise to call more often."

After hanging up, she collected herself and reread the news article. It didn't mention Tom at all, which she found odd. Where had he been when this happened? A dark possibility entered her mind, but Hermione pushed the thought away. There was no way that Tom had done this. Sure he was cold and seemed to lack any kind of empathy, but that had been his family. Not to mention that he had been a teenager at the time. Still, Hermione couldn't fully dismiss the possibility, no matter how hard she tried.

Hermione tried finding any more information about the case, but every other link just repeated the facts from the first one. She frowned, wondering if there was any connection between this and the man from earlier. She desperately wished she knew more about Tom, but she wasn't about to ask him for a heart to heart. She was trying to come up with ways to learn about Tom's life when the idea struck her. Luna.

Luna had gone to school with Tom for seven years and had worked with him for almost five. If anyone could give her more information about him, it was her. Making up her mind to bring it up at lunch tomorrow, Hermione shut her laptop and got to work on figuring out dinner for the night.

The next day, Hermione found herself waiting for the right time to ask Luna about Tom. She had tossed and turned all night, the article getting to her more than she thought it would. After eating dinner, she had found herself looking up the case some more. After hours of digging, Hermione found a picture from the crime scene that had sent a shiver down her spine when she looked at it. The three bodies were strewn across the floor haphazardly, their eyes open and staring at nothing.

Pushing the disturbing image from her mind, Hermione took the opportunity when there was a lull in conversation. "Luna, what was Tom like in school?"

"Why are you so suddenly interested in Tom?" She asked.

"It's nothing. Yesterday he just said something about his past that made me curious. I figured I could ask you since you went to school with him." Hermione's conscience gave a little tug. First she lied to Harry, and now she was lying to Luna.

Luna looked like she knew that Hermione wasn't telling her something, but she answered her question anyways. "When he first started middle school he was bullied a lot, being an orphan and all. But that stopped fairly quickly and everyone pretty much loved him after that."

"He was an orphan?" It didn't make any sense. Assuming Tom was only a few years older than Hermione, and based on the year the article was published, she had estimated that he was between fourteen and seventeen when his father and grandparents had been murdered. So how had he been an orphan as an eleven year old going into middle school?

Luna nodded. "Yes, his childhood is actually pretty tragic. His father left as soon as he found out that his mother was pregnant, he didn't want anything to do with them I guess. And then his mother died while giving birth, so he had to go to an orphanage. Nobody ever adopted him, which I've never understood since he was so well liked in school and did well in all of his classes." She shrugged. "That's where he grew up and lived until he graduated and went off to college. He's very lucky he even got to go to college at all."

"Why do you say that?"

"He wouldn't have been able to afford it, but when he was sixteen his father was murdered. I remember reading about it, it was all very bizarre. Apparently Tom's father was extremely wealthy and when he died, Tom inherited everything."

Hermione suppressed her shudder. That was certainly enough motive for Tom to kill his own father. Especially since said father had abandoned him and his mother. It was getting harder and harder to convince herself that Tom hadn't been responsible for the murder of three people. Hermione forced herself to get back to the real reason why she had asked Luna about Tom in the first place. "So besides the bullying when he first got there, Tom didn't have any problems with anybody?" It was possible for Tom and the man from the coffee shop to have gone to school together, and if Luna mentioned any names then maybe Hermione could figure out who he was.

Luna seemed even more interested than before about her line of questioning, but didn't push any further, for which Hermione was grateful. "No, not really." Luna said thoughtfully. "Oh, except for Myrtle. I can't believe I almost forgot about her."

Hermione perked up. "Who's Myrtle?" Sure, Myrtle was a girl's name, but it was still more than Hermione knew before.

"She was a year younger than us, a freshman when Tom and I were sophomores. Myrtle absolutely adored Tom, followed him around everywhere like a puppy. It was obvious that her constant pestering bothered him, which is why he felt so bad afterwards."

"Afterwards? What happened?" Hermione frowned, not liking where this was headed.

"The poor girl died." Luna explained with sadness in her voice. "A snake had gotten into the school and bit her while she was in the bathroom. She was terribly allergic and went into anaphylactic shock. She didn't even make it to the hospital. It happened about a year before Tom's father was killed."

It seemed that death followed Tom Riddle everywhere. How many times did something have to happen for it to stop being a coincidence and start being a connection? "How did a snake get into the school bathroom?" She asked.

"They discovered that it was a pet that belonged to another student, a senior named Rubeus Hagrid. For some reason he brought it to school and it had gotten loose. He was already of age when it happened, so he was charged with involuntary manslaughter. They let him stay at the school though, as a janitor. Last I checked, he was still there."

Hermione's head was pounding and she didn't know what to think. Although someone else had been held responsible for the girl's death, she had a sinking feeling that Tom was somehow involved in this as well as the deaths of his family. There was no other explanation for why all the people who Tom had problems with ended up dead. "That's a lot to take in," Hermione told Luna, not knowing what else to say. "I think I need to go clear my head. Thanks for answering all of my questions."

Luna gave Hermione a reassuring smile. "Of course. And Hermione, I wouldn't think too much on it. Tom had a bad childhood, but nowadays who hasn't?"

Hermione nodded but didn't really listen to the statement as she left the break room. She walked back towards the offices and couldn't help herself from looking over at the door to Tom's office as she crossed the room. Hermione wondered if he was in there right now and what he was currently doing. With twenty minutes of her break left, Hermione decided to wander around the museum's exhibits. She had told Luna the truth about needing to clear her head.

A few minutes later, Hermione found herself in front of Francis Bacon's _Study after Velazquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X_. She studied it with wide eyes, held captive by the dark imagery of the painting. It was the kind of art that stayed with you long after seeing it. The kind that flashed in your mind every time you closed your eyes, and haunted your dreams. She hadn't intended on actually stopping to look at anything, but as she was walking aimlessly around the modern art exhibit her eyes had landed on the painting and she had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

"I often find myself admiring this painting as well."

Hermione visibly jumped when Tom's voice tore her from her thoughts. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. She didn't turn around, didn't look at him. She couldn't face him right now, not this soon after everything she just learned. "How do you always know where I am?"

He chose not to answer her question, saying instead, "Why, does it bother you?" She didn't have to look to know that he was smirking. He stepped closer and she could feel the heat from his body seeping into her back. His fingers ran lightly through her hair brushing it over to the side, leaving her neck exposed. Hermione flinched at his touch. "Jumpy this morning, aren't we love?" He had bent his head to whisper in her ear.

A shiver ran through Hermione at the pet name. Again she marveled at how quickly the dynamic between them had changed, and she wondered what could have been the catalyst. Try as she might, she couldn't deny the pleasant warmth that trailed after his fingers as he ran them up her arm to rest on her shoulder. The kiss from yesterday replayed in her mind, reminding her of the way his lips felt against hers. "I'm tired, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." Hermione said in a shaky voice. She was enjoying this way too much considering that not ten minutes ago she had been toying with the possibility that he had killed four people, while still in high school no less.

As she spoke, Tom lowered his lips to her neck, resting them against her pulse point. He hummed in response and the vibration shot heat down to settle in her lower stomach, causing her to let out a contented sigh. It felt so good. "Too busy thinking of me?" He murmured against her skin, the suggestion clear in his tone.

Hermione almost laughed at the irony. _If only you knew._ With great effort, she forced herself to step out of his embrace and finally turned to face him. She quickly scanned the area, relief flooding through her when she saw that it was empty other than the two of them. When her eyes fell on Tom at last, she couldn't help her sharp inhale. He was looking at her with such intensity that Hermione thought she might explode. Her hands began to tremble. Closing her eyes, she found it easier to think when she couldn't see the way he stared at her, even if she still felt it. "This is inappropriate."

"Is it?" His voice was light, curious.

"Yes, it is. We're coworkers." _You're a murderer._

Her eyes flew open when she felt Tom's hand at her scalp before his fingers began running through her curls. Keeping his hand in her hair, he used his free one to cup the side of her neck, his thumb pushing her chin up until he could look into her eyes. "Do you remember what I told you on your first day here?" He didn't give Hermione a chance to answer. "I always get what I want."

And then he was kissing her again. This one was much fiercer than their previous one, much more demanding. He was making a point, showing her that if he wanted her, there was nothing she could do stop him. But the terrible truth was that she didn't want to stop him. She liked the way she seemed to come alive at his touch. She liked the little lurch her heart gave and the heat that spread through her body whenever he touched her.

In the end, it was Hermione that pulled away first, in desperate need of air. She took deep breaths, glowering at Tom when she saw a smug grin spread across his face. "I have to go, my break's over." She blurted out, making her escape. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to see Tom again today. She didn't want to talk about what just happened, didn't even want to think about it. She was definitely going to hell.

It seemed that fate had other plans though because just an hour later, she and Tom were both called into the director's office. Hermione was practically shaking from her nerves. Had he somehow found out about what happened? Sneaking a glance over at Tom, she noted that he was perfectly at ease. She wanted to hit him. It wasn't fair. How could he be so calm while she was panicking about getting fired?

The director cleared his throat and Hermione's eyes snapped back to him. "I called you both in here to let you know that museum will be hosting a charity gala," He began in his usual, gruff voice and Hermione immediately relaxed. "You two will be in charge of coordinating it. It's not for several months, and I'll be giving you more information later, but for right now I wanted to make you aware."

Tom smiled graciously. "Thank you sir," He turned his head to look at Hermione. "I'm looking forward to working with you on this project."

Hermione forced herself to nod. "I look forward to it as well."

Tom's smile melted into a smirk the moment he turned away from the director. He winked at her as he walked out and Hermione followed a few steps behind. As soon as Tom disappeared back into his own office, she sank into her seat and was grateful when he didn't both her for the rest of the day.

Not in the mood to make real food that evening, Hermione grabbed a frozen meal and stuck it in the microwave. She had turned the news on in the background but wasn't really paying attention, too busy mentally planning everything she needed to get done for the gala, even though it was still pretty far away. As the reporter went on about a murder that had happened in the early hours of the morning, she grabbed her now hot food, transferring it to a plate before making her way back into the living room.

Hermione froze and her plate fell to floor when she glanced over at the TV. The ceramic dish had shattered, a shard of it slicing across Hermione's foot, but she paid it no mind. Her ears were buzzing, and she couldn't understand a single thing the anchor was saying. She could only focus on the man's face in the corner of the screen. It was him, the man from the coffee shop. She blinked and everything was crystal clear again.

"The victim has been positively identified as Mundungus Fletcher."


	5. Chapter 5

**I went back and edited a few of my chapters. Nothing major, just a few typos and grammatical errors I found after rereading them. Moving on, here's chapter five, I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you to everyone who's favorited and followed this story and/or me and who's left reviews. I love hearing y'alls feedback so please continue to leave reviews! That's the only way I can know how you guys feel about my writing and the story so I greatly appreciate it.**

 **For this chapter I highly recommend you look up Francis Bacon's _Study after Velazquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X_ that I mentioned in the previous chapter if you have not done so already. It will help you visualize one of the scenes near the beginning of this chapter. The original painting by Velazquez is just a regular portrait, but Francis Bacon turns it into something that I find very haunting in it's beauty. **

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, a sad truth I must accept every day.**

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She was running. Hermione didn't know what, or who, was chasing her, but she knew she didn't want to find out. Her lungs were on fire, her muscles were aching, and a stitch was forming in her side, but she kept running. Despite her efforts, she could hear the footsteps chasing after her getting closer and closer and Hermione felt a crippling wave of despair rush over her. Then something heavy was slamming into her from behind, knocking the wind out of her and throwing her forward onto the ground. She quickly scrambled to her knees and spun around, shrieking at the sight before her. The man from the coffee shop, Mundungus Fletcher, was standing above her. He was drenched in blood, the thick liquid flowing off of him almost lazily and onto Hermione. There was a large gash across the length of his throat which had to be the source of all the blood. He reached forward to grab her, but Hermione was faster, and she got to her feet before he could reach her.

She turned and sprinted away from the dead man. She needed somewhere to hide. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the museum appeared in front of her. Without a second thought, she yanked the door open and rushed in. When she turned back to lock the door, it was gone, leaving her trapped inside. The place was dark and empty. She glanced around, her dread growing at the lack of exhibits. The only thing that seemed to be in the building was a painting hanging on the far wall with a single spotlight illuminating it. Studying it further, she saw that Tom was the subject of the painting.

Hermione approached the painting slowly. He was wearing a black robe and sitting on some type of throne. No, not a throne, she realized as her brain pieced everything together. It was the chair from Francis Bacon's painting. As she stared at the canvas, Tom turned his head sharply. His expression was dark as he looked down at her in disdain. "I always get what I want." He hissed at her, his voice high and cruel. Thick black lines appeared at the top of the painting and then rushed down to the bottom as if someone had used a knife to make big slashes on the canvas. As soon as the lines touched Tom, he began to change. Hermione watched in horror as his hair receded and his skin became deathly pale. Red bled into his eyes until that was all she could see and his nose became nothing but slits. His mouth opened wide in a scream, the terrible sound crawling under her skin and burrowing into her brain like a parasite.

She shot up in bed, covered in sweat and panting heavily. Her ears were ringing and her throat was sore. Hermione had been the one screaming, not Tom. Or whatever that thing was that Tom became. Whenever she blinked, she saw a flash of those red eyes glaring back at her. She jumped when a sudden loud noise reverberated through her apartment but relaxed when she realized it was just someone banging on her front door. Probably a neighbor, trying to get her to shut up. When the person kept knocking, Hermione groaned and dragged herself out of bed. She had stopped screaming, so why couldn't they just leave?

Opening the door, Hermione immediately regretted not looking through the peephole when she was greeted with the sight of Tom pacing back and forth anxiously. His hair, which was always perfectly styled, was fussed up with random pieces sticking in every direction like he had run his hands through it repeatedly. He was wearing sweatpants and a soft looking cotton v-neck that gave Hermione a glimpse of his collar bones. She had never seen him so discomposed before and all she could do was stare.

"Are you going to let me in?" Tom asked after a minute. His voice was quiet and unsure and he brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. Was he _nervous?_

Hermione's first instinct was to tell him no. To close the door in his face and lock it tight. But something was wrong. She had never seen Tom like this before, and she wanted to know what happened. He looked so vulnerable, in that moment. Her curiosity winning out, Hermione wordlessly opened the door further and moved to the side so that he could come in.

"What are you doing here Tom?" She asked him softly, after closing the door behind her. The nightmare was still fresh in her mind and when her eyes landed on him, all she could see was the monster from the painting. Hermione cleared her throat. "How do you even know where I live?"

"I got the address from your job application."

Her eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms. "You broke into the director's office and went digging through his files until you found my application?"

Tom didn't even blink at her accusatory tone. "I needed to talk to you."

"In the middle of the night? It couldn't have waited until work tomorrow?" Hermione's head throbbed. She moved into the kitchen and grabbed painkillers from the cabinet. She kept an eye on Tom as he followed her, unable to trust him enough to look away.

"I spent hours debating whether or not to come here," Tom told her. "I decided it was too important not to."

"This is about Mundungus Fletcher, isn't it?" It was risky asking him, but Hermione wanted him to get to the point so that he could leave. His presence made her unsettled and she didn't like him being in her apartment. Her eyes flickered to the block of knives on the counter next to her and then back to him. This man was a murderer Hermione reminded herself. If she needed to defend herself, she would.

Tom's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly controlled his expression. "Why would you think that?"

"It's all over the news and he was obviously terrified of you. I'm not stupid, Tom." She scoffed as a way to hide her unease. She rested her hand on the counter, making sure the knives were within reach.

"I know," Tom closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "I know. I came here because I need you to know that I didn't mean to. I didn't plan on killing him, it just happened."

Fear flooded through Hermione and she took a deep breath through her nose to try and calm herself. Her entire body was shaking and she blinked back tears. She had already assumed that Tom had murdered Fletcher, but it was so much worse hearing him admit it. "Why?" Her voice cracked, and she barely managed to get the question out.

"He threatened you." Tom's voice was low but steady. He gave her a pleading look and stepped forward slowly so as not to startle her, his hands out in front of him to show he wasn't a threat.

"What?" Hermione's brows furrowed. That was the last thing she had been expecting him to say. "I don't understand." Confusion and desperation seeping into her voice. Her fingers were still inches away from the knives, and they twitched towards them involuntarily. She saw Tom's eyes narrow at the movement and she swallowed to try and relieve the dry ache in her throat.

Tom took another step. When Hermione didn't make a move for any of her knives, he crept forward until he was right in front of her. "He didn't like the conversation I had with him at the coffee shop. After he left, he came up with a plan. Insurance, he called it." Tom growled out and Hermione flinched at his tone. His face immediately softened and he brushed his fingertips against her cheek lightly. "He saw us together at the café and figured he could use you as leverage. He found out who you were and came to me saying that if I ever even spoke to him again that he would hurt you. I lost it, Hermione. As soon as he said your name, I saw red. I couldn't control myself."

"Why?" Hermione asked, looking up at him. "It's not like you actually care about me."

Tom shook his head and leaned down to press his lips to her forehead. "That's where the problem lies Hermione," He whispered against her skin. "Because I do care about you. Much more than I'd like to admit."

Before she could respond, Tom had tilted her head up so that his mouth could press against hers. Gone was the hesitant, timid Tom; his old self had returned in full force. The kiss was insistent and he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth until she opened for him. His hands trailed down her arms, leaving fire in their wake, until he was gripping her hips. He pulled her tightly against him, and Hermione sighed into his mouth at the feel of his body against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up to sit on the counter, moving to stand between her legs.

She couldn't think, couldn't process anything besides how good his touch felt on her skin. The fingers on his left hand dipped below the waistband of her sleep shorts while he braced his right against the counter behind her. Hermione couldn't contain her moan as his fingers brushed against her through her underwear. Tom smirked at her reaction, and took his time running his thumb up and down her entrance, knowing that the slow pace was torture. She couldn't help her disappointed whimper when he pulled his hand away, but gasped when his fingers grazed her breast before knotting in the hair at the back of her head. He yanked her head back, giving his lips access to her neck before skimming them down to nip at her collar bone. Hermione's eyes had closed in pleasure, but they flew open when she suddenly felt cool metal pressed to her throat.

Tom's left hand was still tangled in her hair, keeping her head from moving, while his right had the sharp blade of a carving knife pressed to her skin. "Tom, what are you doing?" Her hands were still at his neck, but she didn't try anything. He would cut her throat the second she did. If she wanted to live, she'd have to talk her way out.

Tom studied her face for a moment before responding. "I came here tonight because I knew that you would have connected the dots. You knew I was probably the last person who saw Fletcher alive and that he was scared of me. I can't have that kind of information getting out." He explained coolly.

Hermione's heart plummeted. Despite how much he got under skin, she couldn't deny her obvious attraction to Tom, and so a part of her had been ecstatic when he said he cared about her. Finding out that none of it was real had Hermione cursing her foolishness. She took a deep breath. "All of this was a trick. Lies to get me to invite you in and let down my guard." Tom nodded, a dark grin playing on his lips. "Why? You're stronger than me. You could have easily killed me as soon as I let you into the apartment. Why do all of this?"

He chuckled. "When we first started working together, I told you that I'd have you falling at my feet, Hermione. And fall, you did. I just confessed to you that I murdered somebody and you still let me kiss you, still let me touch you." His smug expression made her sick to her stomach.

"Please, you don't have to do this." Hermione begged. She closed her eyes, but that didn't stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. "I won't tell anyone."

Tom hummed and she felt him slowly trail the knife down her chest and between her breasts until the point rested just above her belly button. "But how can I be sure that you'll keep your promise?"

"I will, I swear. Please, Tom."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It's nothing personal, it's just easier this way." Tom said before driving the blade into her abdomen.

Hermione inhaled sharply as her eyes opened. She was laying in bed. Sitting up slowly, she looked around her darkened room. She was alone. There was never any knocking on her front door. Tom never came to her apartment. With shaking fingers, Hermione pulled up her shirt and looked down at her stomach. Nothing. It had all been a nightmare. Her heart continued to pound frantically, and every little noise made her jump. She couldn't shake the nightmare from her thoughts. It had felt so real. The first part of her nightmare, while scary at the time, hadn't felt real. The logical part of her had known she was dreaming as she ran through the streets, but her subconscious had forced her to keep running anyways, made it feel like she had to.

But the second part… Hermione shuddered. The first time she opened her eyes, she had thought that it was over, that she was awake. Everything had been so realistic. If she focused, she could feel Tom's touch tracing up her arm and his fingers slipping beneath the band of her shorts. Goosebumps broke out over her body, and she wanted to scream at herself. In her dream, Tom had only kissed her as a distraction so that he could kill her and here she was getting flustered at how good his distraction had felt.

She tried her best to block out the nightmare and glanced over at her clock. 3:27 in the morning. There was no way that she was going back to sleep tonight. There was a dry ache in her throat and she reluctantly got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make some tea.

While waiting for the water to boil, Hermione's eyes flitted around nervously. When her gaze fell on the knife block sitting innocently on the counter, her heart skipped a beat. Reaching over, she grasped the handle of the carving knife and took a deep breath before pulling it out of its resting place. She examined the knife, turning it over in her hand slowly. The set was new so the blade was still wickedly sharp. Her hands were clammy as she returned the knife to the block.

The sudden, piercing whistle of the kettle made Hermione scream. She shook her head as she poured the water. She needed to calm down, it was just a nightmare. She tried to control her breathing while waiting for the tea to steep. She couldn't go to work like this. If a tea kettle made her scream, she had no idea how she'd react to seeing Tom. Her legs nearly gave out just thinking about it. No, she couldn't see him. She'd just have to call in sick.

With her mind made up, Hermione did everything she could to try and relax. She treated the day like a mini vacation. She took a long bubble bath, read, did a jigsaw puzzle, but still her brain was buzzing with activity. The nightmare had faded into the background, but now she couldn't stop thinking about Mundungus Fletcher. It couldn't just be a coincidence that they ran into him at the coffee shop and then later the same night he ended up dead. She hated not knowing.

Making a rash decision, Hermione got in her car and started driving towards the coffee shop. The day had passed quickly and she was surprised to see it was already evening. The tiny lot in front of the shop was full, so she parked at a nearby garage. Hermione walked the short distance but hesitated outside the door. She had no idea why she had gone in the first place, but she was already here and there was no point going back now. Sighing, she pulled the door open and stepped in.

Hermione didn't know what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't Tom. He was sitting at one of the tables and she looked away, hoping that he wouldn't notice her. Of course, life never worked in her favor because a second later she heard him calling her name. She turned and saw he was walking over to her. "Hello." She greeted quietly. She kept her eyes down, not sure if she could handle looking at him.

"I didn't see you at work today, is everything alright?" He asked, nothing but concern in his voice. Hermione didn't understand how he did it.

"I was pretty sick last night and this morning, but I'm feeling better now. It must have been one of those 24 hour bugs." She told him, trying to sound as convincing as he always did.

"I'm glad you're feeling better. But what are you doing out? Even if you don't feel sick anymore, you should still be resting."

Hermione's heart rate picked up. He wanted to know what she was doing here. "My throat's still a little sore, and I wanted tea. I really liked what I got here when you brought me the other day, so I figured I'd try theirs."

Tom nodded. "This place is pretty good, I come here a lot."

He stood with her as she ordered and waited for her tea. When she got her drink, she gave him a small smile and waved. "I'll let you get back to what you were doing."

"I was about to leave anyways." She very reluctantly followed him to the exit. He held the door open for her with a charming smile on his face. It was a shame that this was all a charade. If Tom was an actual gentleman, Hermione was sure that she would have already fallen in love with him. As soon as they were outside, she turned and begun walking as fast as she could without being suspicious away from the shopping area when she heard Tom call out. "Did you not drive here? I can give you a ride if you like."

"Thank you for the offer, but I did drive. The lot was full so I had to park a couple blocks away." She explained. "Goodnight, Tom." She started walking again.

Despite her goodbye, Tom jogged lightly to catch up with her. Hermione almost groaned. He refused to leave her alone. "I'll walk you to your car." He offered politely.

"That's not necessary," Hermione responded too quickly. Tom gave her a curious look and she internally swore. She needed to stop being so obviously uncomfortable around him. "I'd feel bad making you walk all the way there."

"I don't mind at all. Besides, it's getting dark and with everything that's been going on recently, I'd never forgive myself if something happened."

A cold lump of fear slithered down Hermione's spine and her nightmare reared its ugly head. He was trying to find out what she knew, just like in her dream. "What do you mean?" She asked, playing dumb. She could see the parking deck and it was like a beacon of safety, but it was still about a block away. Surely Tom wouldn't do anything in such a public area, but as they walked, Hermione noticed that no one else was on the streets but them.

Tom frowned. "It's all over the news, haven't you heard?"

"No, I felt so sick when I got home from work yesterday that I went straight to bed. I haven't seen anything."

"Remember my friend from the coffee shop? They found his body early yesterday morning."

"What happened?" Her voice shook, and she prayed he didn't notice.

"They think it was a mugging gone wrong. It was one of the most violent attacks the city has had in years." Tom told her. "That's why I insisted on walking with you. Whoever did it is still out there."

Hermione shivered. "That's awful." She whispered. Maybe she was overreacting. Sure, Tom was manipulative and cunning, but could he actually commit such a gruesome act? She had always been a logical, analytical person. She looked at things rationally, and never just went with her gut. That was much more Ron and Harry's style. She did extensive research and gathered as much information as she could before making any conclusions. So then why was she so quick to call Tom a murderer? She had no real evidence, just a few a news articles and a bad dream. The reports never pointed to Tom, and besides, he had never actually done anything to hurt her, not in real life anyways. Perhaps she needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.

They didn't talk again until they had reached her car. "This is me," Hermione gestured at her car. "Thank you for walking me."

"Of course," Tom replied. She grabbed the door handle, but Tom had reached out and pressed his hand against the door to keep it from opening. She did her best not to start hyperventilating and turned to look at him. "Stay safe." He told her, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss to her forehead and then smiling down at her.

It was too much like her nightmare. Hermione needed to get out of there before she had a nervous breakdown. She just nodded at him. "I will. I'll see you at work, Tom."

His smile broadened until it became the one she had only ever seen him direct at her. The smile hit her like a battering ram. It made her feel giddy, and she desperately tried to shoo away the feeling. "Until tomorrow."

As soon as he turned and walked away, Hermione got in her car and locked the doors. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, resting her head against the steering wheel. Tom Riddle was a force of nature, devastating in his intensity. He swept through and destroyed everything in his path, and there was no way to avoid it. He was a hurricane and all she could do was wait for him to pass and hope that in the end there were still pieces that she could put back together.


End file.
